Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Albania and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Radio Birdman to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Don Cherry. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drexciya,
Malaria!,
Graham Central Station,
Camouflage,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Bill Wells,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Lebanon Hanover,
Crispy Ambulance,
Procol Harum,
Delon & Dalcan,
H. Thieme,
The Real Kids,
Rufus Thomas,
The Litter,
Nico,
Electric Prunes,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Rapeman,
It's A Beautiful Day,
John Coltrane,
John Cale,
Bizarre Inc.,
Icehouse,
John Lydon,
Colin Newman,
Sam Rivers,
Masters at Work,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Cheater Slicks,
Brick,
The Monochrome Set,
Hashim,
The Red Krayola,
Anakelly,
La Düsseldorf,
Jeff Lynne,
Visage,
Bobby Sherman,
Sällskapet,
Scan 7,
Chris & Cosey,
The Cramps,
Drive Like Jehu,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Joensuu 1685,
Minor Threat,
Slick Rick,
Soulsonic Force,
The Fugs,
Subhumans,
Pere Ubu,
JFA,
Deakin,
CMW,
Siglo XX,
Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.